


Thoroughly, Emphatically, and Messily

by EternalFangirl



Category: The Old Guard (Comics), The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Every pun intended, Kink Meme, M/M, They cover all their bases, Virgin!Nicky, Yusuf is helpful, kink meme fill, unwilling virgin sacrifice, very helpful, willing sexy times
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:33:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27296476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EternalFangirl/pseuds/EternalFangirl
Summary: Based on this Kink Meme Prompt:"Nicky is a virgin set to be offered to a god who DEFINITELY DOES kill their sacrifices. He's tried and failed to escape several times since he was chosen, so the night before the ceremony, they have him shackled in a cell under armed guard.The guard is, of course, Joe, and he's gotten to be pretty fond of Nicky since he's been watching him. He already wasn't a huge fan of the whole human sacrifice thing, and he's really not a fan of that sacrifice being Nicky, and he's determined to get him out of there. Maybe rescuing the sacrifice is the whole reason he's there, like Andy and Quynh freeing the witches in England (just less disastrous). The problem is, he doesn't have a way to get Nicky out.So, Nicky proposes the only other option: thoroughly, emphatically, and messily deflower him, so there can be no doubt that he no longer fits the bill. Probably best if they just do every possible sex act too, to avoid any loopholes or technicalities."
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 18
Kudos: 202





	1. Trapped

**Author's Note:**

> Care has been taken to ensure that this religious sacrifice to the sex God does not reflect any real-world religions. I have tried to keep the references to the religions vague. Basically, the entire setup is vague on purpose. Don't worry, the sex won't be ;)

When he had seen the keys to his cell--oh wait, sorry, his  _ suite-- _ lying harmlessly in the hallway outside, Nicolò had chalked it up to a brilliant bit of luck (and perhaps a drunk guard) and thanked his lucky stars.

Now, he was legitimately wondering if God had sent him some divine help in his very weird and insanely terrifying predicament. Help in the form of the most gorgeous man Nicolò had ever set his eyes on. Oh,  _ Dio Mio _ .

He wished he could say that he took God’s name in vain because he was scared of the big, strong guard grabbing him and putting him back in his room, where the fucking priests insisted he belonged till their nightmare of a God had a chance to fuck him to death.

Objectively, an impending gruesome death on a deity’s enormous cock (described to him in excruciating detail)  _ should  _ have all of his attention, but the guard was… _ Mio Dio, quelle braccia!  _

The man stood still, his curved sword still sheathed, looking at Nicolò with something akin to concern as he ignored the commotion in the temple, where the guards were starting to figure out that their precious virgin sacrifice was missing. “You’re running away,” he said. He didn’t look too worried about it.

Nicolò nodded. He was out of his rooms, in the temple grounds. There were imaginative curses in the air behind him, and someone was yelling loudly in a language he neither knew nor cared to learn. He doubted lying would help him.

The guard stared at him, then looked at the commotion over his shoulder. “It will get cold after the sun sets,” he said as he stepped forward. “Go West, and don’t build a fire.” He opened the complicated clasp on his heavy cloak and draped it over Nicolò’s shoulders. “Best not to talk, not many know your language here--”

“You do,” Nicolò countered, trying to ignore the way the guard’s fingers brushed his chin as he redid the clasps hastily.

“I got curious,” said the guard. “And I am good with languages.” He looked up, his task completed, and tucked his waterskin into Nicolò’s waistband. “You should start running now. West.”

Nicolò was still recovering from the casual touch of this handsome stranger on his waist. “Right.” He licked his lips. “West.”

* * *

They found him with dogs.

The beasts did not bite into him, but it was a very near thing. He was shaking with the cold and his waterskin was empty, but no one offered him any food or water before they bound him for the journey back. Nicolò grit his teeth and did not beg for scraps.

The guard was stationed right in front of the elaborate doors of his prison. He looked menacing with his curved sword at his hip, a slight scowl on his face. His arms were crossed. And  _ bulging _ because of it. He said something to the guards shoving Nicolò around, then laughed at their reply. It sounded wrong, like an attempt at theatre… too big and boisterous for those kind, soulful eyes. Nicolò clutched the man’s cloak tighter around himself, and tried to keep his head high when he was shoved into the accursed room.

The guard did not follow him in. Nicolò wished he had, if only to have someone be kind to him again. They kept him fed and allowed him to rest, but all the priests and guards of this temple always looked at him as a… vessel, instead of a person. He wanted to be a person again.

But it was just as well the handsome guard had not followed him in, or he would have heard the wretched sob that left Nicolò’s lips when the key was turned in the lock, sealing him to his fate.

* * *

“They think you are scared of me,” the guard whispered to him the next morning, leaning down under the guise of setting some bread down on the table in front of Nicolò. “They are worried you will kill yourself before the full moon, and all their work will be for nothing.”

Nicolò decided not to mention the hour he had spent staring out his window last night, wondering if he would fit through the bars if he just contorted his body enough. He did not want the guard to stop telling him things, or worse, stop telling him things.

“Don’t you want a bountiful harvest and robust sons?”

The man began to laugh, a beautiful and deep sound that tugged at Nicolò’s lips as well.

“I follow the old gods,” said the guard eventually. “None of this modern craziness for me. They have had you for weeks now, and they insist that their God needs a sacrifice… But God created you as he created them. How is this God willing to take a life He created Himself?”

“Because I haven’t been spoiled by Earthly pleasures,” said Nicolò, repeating what the priests had told him.

The guard smiled warmly at him. “Never enjoyed a meal? Overslept? Indulged in daydreaming? Gorged yourself on ripe fruit? God is not the one who decides which Earthly pleasures are undesirable or taboo. We humans do. And if it is so bad to find pleasure in someone’s bed, why are you being killed for not having done it?”

Nicolò felt a little faint. He could feel a headache coming on. “I won’t be a… a virgin, when I die.”

His new friend’s smile died. “Inshallah,” he murmured. “Someone as sweet and beautiful as you should not die a virgin. They should not die at such a tender age either. You should get to live, and love, and make mistakes and grow old.” He turned to go. “I’ll see what I can do.”

* * *

His new friend helped him run away from the bath house as well, hiding sturdy boots and clothes for him and distracting the guards with seemingly amiable banter. They were a lot less gentle with him when they found him this time. Nicolò wished he could have learned their language, if only to beg for mercy and whatever kindness they could find in their hearts. His friend had been right. No one seemed to speak his tongue.

“They have decided that there needs to be a guard with you at all times for the next three days,” his friend murmured after he was locked into Nicolò’s room with him. “The guards are starting to get angry, and the priests say they are busy preparing for the feast…” He sounded so sad and defeated. “I am sorry. They think you stole my clothes, and that you are scared of me. So they decided to station me in here.”

“If you’re here,” Nicolò said slowly, “then who is out there planning my next escape?”

His friend did not answer for a few moments. “My name is Yusuf,” he said eventually, and held Nicolò while they both pretended he wasn’t crying quietly.

Yusuf’s soft mumblings and warm embrace lulled Nicolò to an uneasy sleep. When he woke up, he was sprawled on the narrow bed with his leg poking out of the warm blanket. He lifted his head. Yusuf was shuffling around, trying to tidy up. Don’t worry about it, Nicolò thought morosely. I’ll be dead soon anyway.

“You don’t have to do that,” he said instead. 

Yusuf turned and shuffled closer. “I want to help,” he said plainly. They were quiet for a moment. “Have you tried lying? Maybe you can tell the priests that you have--”

“I tried it,” said Nicolò. “They said it was an old tactic that nearly every sacrifice used.”

“They didn’t believe you,” said Yusuf. He hummed in thought. “What… What have you done? Maybe you aren’t as pure as you think.”

Nicolò’s ears went pink. “I have… I kissed a girl once. I didn’t like it much. I don’t think I like girls.”

Yusuf hummed again, considering this. “On the lips?”

Nicolò could feel his face growing hotter. He wanted to bury his head in the blanket. “Yes,” he whispered. “Just… just the lips. I remember wanting to kiss her neck as well, but...” He laughed. “She didn’t want to let go of my lips.”

“I wouldn’t either,” said Yusuf with a wink. “If given the chance. It’s a pity that this girl of yours was not more demanding, she could have deflowered you and then you wouldn’t be in this mess.”

Nicolò gaped at him like a fish, an idea forming in his head. Yusuf moved away, perhaps realizing that he had struck his friend dumb with his words. Nicolò tried to draw in enough breath to talk.

“I was only joking,” Yusuf said as he pulled away the afghani throw that covered the seats near the fire. He didn’t turn around as Nicolò struggled to find the words. An idea was forming in his head. An insane, nonsensical, wonderful, life-saving idea.

“Yusuf,” he said slowly to the man’s back, waiting till he turned around. “Yusuf, I think I need you to deflower me.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let the deflowering... begin. Kinda. Well. You'll see. Yusuf is trying so hard to be polite and gentlemanly, you guys. But don't worry. Nicky is very enthusiastic about not being killed by divine dick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not dead, just busy :) Sorry about the late update but I am still very much on board with finishing this fic.

"We don't need to do this," said the stubborn mule posing as Nicolò's guard.

“As the man about to be murdered by monster dick in three days, I disagree,” said Nicolò. He was starting to get a little bit angry. All this man needed to do to save his life was to stick his cock in him. Was he really that ugly, that undesirable?

“Nicolò,” sighed the man, taking a seat and putting his head in his hands. “That’s not a good enough reason to take a man’s virginity.”

“You’re not taking it,” said Nicolò. He sympathized with Yusuf’s plight, he did. But he was too scared to not argue. “I am giving it to you, freely. I don’t fear you, Yusuf. There’s a difference in being forced to part with my virginity and giving it to someone I trust.”

“Trust?” Yusuf’s laugh was so sad that it made Nicolò want to cry. He knelt by Yusuf and grabbed his hands, ducking to look up into his eyes. His next question made Nicolò’s eyes sting. “How can you trust me when you don’t even know me?”

“Because you are so reluctant to take from me,” said Nicolò without pause. “You are reluctant to take a gift I am giving freely, simply because the circumstances are not ideal. You wished to help me, you  _ did  _ help me, when no one else would. When it was not your place to. You wouldn’t hurt me, Yusuf. Because you don’t want to.”

Yusuf was silent as he gazed around the room, panic rising in his eyes. Nicolò knew what he was doing, and let him. In a last ditch effort, Yusuf was trying to find a way out of these chambers. Nicolò had gone over every brick and stone within these walls. There was no escape.

“Alright,” said Yusuf finally. “Alright, I will take your virginity.”

Nicolò’s grin might have looked a little manic, but it was real nonetheless.

* * *

“Does it hurt?” Nicolò grimaced at the fear in his own question.

Even though the question was certainly childish, Yusuf took it seriously, shaking his head resolutely. “No, not if we take our time.”

“How much time are we going to take? It has been almost an hour since you agreed!”

Yusuf had the audacity to laugh, his eyes crinkling. “Once we break our fast. Tomorrow.”

“We don’t have ti--”

“We have enough time,” Yusuf interrupted. “We have time for us to explore, for your questions, for you to satisfy your curiosity and assuage your fears.”

“Still more afraid of their God’s cock than yours,” Nicolò muttered, but he doubted Yusuf heard him. He flopped back down on the bed, trying to ignore the nervous energy licking up his spine.

For a moment, there was silence. Yusuf had asked Nicolò’s captors for some oil, and Nicolò listened to the quiet, rhythmic sounds of him polishing his curved sword. There was still some daylight left in the afternoon. Maybe Nicolò could take a nap.

“Yusuf,” he said instead. “May I see it?” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he winced at how blunt they were. But Yusuf did not chide him for his request. Nor did he ask for any clarification, thank the Gods.

Yusuf rose smoothly, his gaze set on Nicolò. There was something smoldering there, and Nicolò suddenly wondered if Yusuf had been waiting for him to initiate something. He didn’t feel undesired, all of a sudden. He felt… wanted.

“What do you want to see, Nicolò?” asked Yusuf, his voice low and intimate. “Use your words now.”

Absurdly, Nicolò blushed. He had been saying the word all afternoon, but he was somehow suddenly shy with Yusuf staring at him with such intensity. He took a deep breath and pretended that he was brave. “Your… your cock. Please, may I see it?”

Yusuf didn’t break eye contact as he undid his loose trousers. He didn’t do it in a cocky way, undressing as if he was gifting Nicolò something. Instead, he looked deeply invested in Nicolò’s reaction to seeing all of him. Nicolò didn’t look away from that penetrating gaze till the trousers hit the floor.

Nicolò’s hand was reaching out even before he had properly taken a look at Joe’s cock. His first absurd thought was about how different it was from his own, longer and thinner. It was beautiful, already chubby from the mere thought of deflowering Nicolò. His gaze flicked upward to check whether Yusuf would stop him, but the man was staring back with breathless anticipation, so Nicolò reached out and touched one fingertip to the head of Yusuf’s cock.

Yusuf exhaled the breath he had been holding, but was still as a statue.

“You look different than me,” said Nicolò softly. The lack of foreskin was… fascinating. He gestured vaguely to the scar at the top of Yusuf’s cock. “Does it hurt?”

“No,” said Yusuf on a breathy sigh. “Nicolò, please--” He choked back whatever he was going to say when Nicolò’s knees hit the floor at the same moment he adjusted his grip around Yusuf’s cock in a loose hold.

There was no sound other than Yusuf’s increasingly frantic breathing. His cock seemed to  _ grow _ in Nicolò’s hand, as if reaching out for him, magnificent and mesmerizing. He stroked steadily, his hand tight around Yusuf. He wanted to be good.

The silence broke when Nicolò brushed his thumb over Yusuf’s tip. Yusuf moaned, muttering something in a language Nicolò didn’t know. He sat up straighter, proud of his accomplishment, wanting to hear more filthy sounds come out of the other man’s throat. He brushed the tip with his thumb again, his nail grazing the slit. Yusuf’s hands  _ finally _ came up to anchor themselves into Nicolò’s hair. He sped up a little, twisting his hand every time he got to the top. He looked up to gauge the effect of this change in technique. 

“Nicolò,” Yusuf groaned, his voice several octaves lower. He cleared his throat, but it didn’t help much. “Nicolò, my sweet, this will all be over too soon if you keep looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you want to devour me,” panted Yusuf.

Nicolò thought it was an excellent idea, so he leaned forward and licked at Yusuf’s head.

The hands in his hair spasmed, and Yusuf jerked, stumbling back as his legs refused to hold him. Nicolò used his free hand to guide him to the chaise he had been sitting on before, smiling innocently. This was  _ fun _ . The taste would take a little getting used to, but the effect this was having on Yusuf more than made up for the bitterness of precome in his mouth.

And Yusuf was  _ leaking _ so badly, his breath coming out in shallow pants as he watched Nicolò spread his precome all over his warm cock. He was too still, though. He wasn’t moving his hips, the way Nicolò did when he was having some fun with his own hand.

So Nicolò opened his mouth and surged forward, not stopping till he had a solid mouthful of Yusuf in his mouth. 

The string of curses in three languages that followed would have been amusing, if Nicolò himself was not feeling the effects of what he was doing. He whined, unwilling to let go of Yusuf’s cock  _ or  _ thigh, wishing he had an extra hand to wrap around himself to relieve some of the pressure he was feeling at the base of his spine. His cock had been a little interested ever since Yusuf had kicked away his trousers, but now he was fully hard, hating the way his own trousers restricted his hard cock. He squirmed.

When Yusuf finally started to thrust a little, Nicolò allowed himself to grin, as much as he was able to with a cock in his mouth. There was a certain sense of pride in making the experienced man lose control like this. And it was obvious that Yusuf couldn’t control his movements anymore. He was making little punched out noises--the  _ uh uh uh  _ music to Nicolò’s ears. He was trying, clearly, to not thrust into Nicolò’s mouth. Nicolò sucked obscenely and enjoyed it when Yusuf lost his battle to keep still.

“Nicolò,” he whined, his cock now weeping in the wet warmth of the other man’s mouth. “Nico--wait, stop, darling boy… We are going too fast!”

Nicolò pulled back enough that Yusuf’s cock still sat heavy on his tongue. “You said we had enough time,” he said around it, and went back to slurping. He tried to make the wet sounds as obscene as possible, and Yusuf let out what felt very much like a sob.

“So good… Feels so good,  _ hobi, _ ” Yusuf was muttering with his teeth clenched, each word a caress. “Such a quick learner...”

Nicolò squirmed as his own cock started to leak. It was incredibly empowering, especially after the last few days he had had, to reduce Yusuf to a blubbering mess with just his mouth. He was startled by a strong thrust that Yusuf clearly tried to temper, but he didn’t let the surprise show on his face. He would be damned if he let Yusuf be gentlemanly now. He looked up again, determined to keep his focus on Yusuf’s lovely face, the long line of his throat as he threw his head back and squeezed his eyes shut. Nicolò hummed in dismay. He wanted to look into Yusuf’s lovely eyes. Yusuf shuddered at the way Nicolò hummed, and looked down. His hands moved restlessly in Nicolò’s hair, fingers twisted painlessly in his hair as Yusuf failed to ignore his baser urges. Nicolò could watch him writhe in ecstasy forever.

But Yusuf was pulling away, pushing against Nicolò’s shoulders when he tried to follow. “I— I will— Imma come, now, Nico, I’m coming!”

The thrill that raced down Nicolò’s spine was new and exciting. He shuffled closer to Yusuf, gaze finally travelling back down to the cock in his hand. He whined when the first ropes of come shot out, trying to look everywhere at once--the aborted little movements of Yusuf’s hips, the grimace on his face, the way he kept trying and failing to say Nicolò’s name, and of course the cum still oozing out of his throbbing cock. 

He finally let go when Yusuf gently cupped his hand gently. Nicolò was suddenly aware of how much he  _ wanted _ . He had no vocabulary to explain his need, no idea of exactly  _ what  _ he wanted, but he would take whatever this man gave him and wear it as a badge of honor.

Yusuf, who was staring at him now, seemed to be thinking along the same lines. “Your turn,” he said with a wink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any ideas on what these horny boys should do next? I accept concrit to a reasonable degree, but please be polite.


End file.
